You and Me and the Devil Makes Three
by Scared of Pennies
Summary: Post Sex and Violence. Sam and Dean struggle to reform their relationship after what's been said. Dean isn't acting himself, or is he? Has the Winchester's relationship been shattered forever or is there something else at hand?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N **So, I'm sort of on a roll writing wise so I decided to start a slightly longer fic, this will probably only be about four chapters but I've only been writing/drafting one-shots at the moment. This is set after **Sex and Violence**, yes I'm going there, and basically deals with the growing rift between the brothers and Sam's powers etc. So, I'm already half way through the next chapter so it should be up soon, I'm pretty nervous about this one but I hope you like it and please tell me what you think!

* * *

Sam wonders idly to himself how he got to this point, bleeding on a dirty motel room floor whilst his brother- well not his brother, strolls around monologuing about how much of a disappointment the Winchesters are, how easy this is, the praise he'll get from Lilith when he returns with Sam's head on a platter; the words barely register in his aching head.

How had he let things get this far? He should have noticed sooner, Dean had been off for days, not that he could really tell anymore. Dean wasn't the Dean he knew and Sam wasn't the Sam that Dean knew either. They'd been drifting for weeks ever since Dean had found out about Sam's powers, since Dean had been saved by angels and since Sam was threatened with damnation by them. The incident with the siren had just tipped things over the edge.

Sam had never regretted something he'd said more in his life, more than what he said at the Asylum more than his parting words to his father, he'd never wanted so much to reach out and physically grab the words he'd just spoken and take them back.

He hadn't meant them…but he had. The siren had twisted his thoughts into bitter, cruel words that had cut his brother to the quick.

_You're holding me back_

_I'm a better hunter than you are._

On some levels he did think Dean was holding him back, he was holding him back from destroying Lilith and finally getting absolution for himself and his brother, he didn't think he was a _**better**_ hunter than Dean, he was better than what Dean gave him credit for. The months without Dean had been the hardest thing he'd ever been through, it'd been loss that he'd never experienced before and those months had turned him into a hardened hunter, he'd thrown himself into hunting, he could banish spirits in his sleep, he could kill a nest of vampires in a matter of minutes, even when he was trashed on Jack Daniel's his hand hadn't shaken when he wielded the machete, slicing heads off without blinking.

But it wasn't these words that kept him wide awake at night, that echoed in his head every time he looked across at his brother's stony expression, his false smiles and forced laughter.

_Boo Hoo._

He can't believe those words had come out of his mouth, that he'd dismissed Dean's sacrifice. He'd never seen his brother more broken than when he'd told Sam about his time in hell, he hadn't even looked him in the eyes. Dean was ashamed of what he'd done when he had no reason to and Sam had thrown it back in his face.

He wasn't telling his brother to get over it, _you're too busy sitting around feeling sorry for yourself_. It wasn't how he'd meant it to come out…Dean wasn't himself, he wasn't ready to go and take on Lilith, Sam on the other hand needed to. To tell the truth Sam was scared shitless because he didn't know how to help Dean. He couldn't deal with seeing a Dean so different to the brother he knew.

Sam wasn't the same either, he wasn't in synch with his brother so Dean's confession scared him, he didn't know what to do to help his brother and Dean admitting to what he'd been through just served in compounding the guilt Sam already felt, shattering his feeble sense of worth. Had Sam's life really been worth that amount of suffering? Did Dean regret making the deal? How could that amount of pain be worth a demonic freak's life?

Sam wanted to be the brother he had been, he wanted to be there for Dean but to tell the truth he didn't know how any more. Dean's time in hell had changed him and Sam's four months in his own personal hell had changed him too and he didn't know how to act around a brother he'd tried to live without for so many months, drowning his guilt and despair and now suddenly he was expected to act like nothing had changed. He hadn't told Dean everything when he'd come clean about the four months without his brother.

Between the stories of drinking and demons there's the times where at night he'd sit on the corner of the bathtub in whatever crappy hotel he was staying in, feeling the heavy dull weight of a revolver in his hand. Staring down at the grey metal seeing his own warped reflection, he'd wonder what it would be like to have his brains splattered against the crummy dirty tiles of a rundown motel in bumblefuck nowhere and have the overweight manager find his week old corpse when his lease ran out. Wondering, what it would feel like to sink into oblivion, to get rid of the powers, the headaches clawing at his brain, the memories.

Then he'd think no. What if there was still a way to save Dean? He still might find a way to pull him out and killing himself would mean Dean would have sacrificed himself for nothing, he'd be left rotting in the pit with no-one left to pull him out.

He couldn't make the transition between the Sam he was then and the Sam he had to be for his brother now.

He'd lied to Dean, let him down. He'd disrespected his dying wishes and he hadn't been able to face up to that, so he'd lied. He was too scared of facing Dean's disappointment and worse of all was Dean being scared of him, like he was a monster.

So now he was left with a shell of a brother and he was a shell of himself, they moved through life with stilted conversation and the silences became longer and longer as each day passed.

Sam was losing the brother he'd fought so hard to get back and there was nothing he could do about it, he couldn't take back the words he said. Dean's words had stung too, picking at everything Sam hated about himself since Dean had returned, confirming his failure as a brother.

That was how Sam had ended up here, ended up so far apart from his brother that he couldn't even tell when his brother wasn't his brother anymore…he should have noticed. Dean's face split into a wide grin and Sam felt a shiver of fear tear through him.

Where the hell was Bobby?

* * *

_Three Days Earlier_

Sam stared miserably up at the motel room ceiling, gaze tracing stains and cracks. He let out a sigh and rolled onto his side. Midnight.

Dean had been gone for a few hours now, he'd mumbled something about going to a bar before leaving, shutting the door before Sam could reply.

They drove from motel to motel, hunt to hunt exchanging little more than details of the hunt and their whereabouts. Dean was spending more and more time on his own, leaving in the evenings to go to bars or diners or to speak to his guardian angel he thought bitterly, he was never specific.

His attempts at apologies had just been dismissed with "It's fine", "Sam, We're good." "It was the Siren" but the words didn't meet Dean's eyes, they hung awkwardly in the air, neither of them really believing them.

Dean wasn't being angry or impatient like he had been after Asylum, he was just…indifferent. Drifting from day to day like an empty vessel and that hurt Sam more than anger ever would; it was like Dean wasn't there anymore.

Sam flicked on the television and lay there, numbly watching some crappy sitcom his mind elsewhere before eventually he drifted into an uncomfortable sleep, Dean's bed still empty.

Sam eyes snapped open, daylight streamed through a gap in the curtains and Sam groaned and rolled over, closing his eyes. Opening them, he swallowed hard as he saw Dean's bed was still empty. He sat up slowly and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Where the hell was his brother?

Almost on cue Sam heard the keys in the door and Dean stepped in, hair rumpled, face pale, a black eye and dry blood crusted around his collar.

"Dean? Where have you been? What the hell happened to you? Is that blood?" Sam asked, getting to his feet his gaze roaming over his brother. Dean looked away, frowning as he shrugged off his jacket and placed a paper bag on the table.

"What is this, twenty questions? I went to bar, got into a fight and then got lucky. Chicks never can resist the knight in shining armour." Dean said and for an instant Sam was reminded of how his brother used to be.

"Well you could have called, I didn't know if something had happened to you, which it clearly did." Sam said as his brother just sighed in exasperation and pulled out a doughnut from the bag and began to eat it, screwing up the bag and throwing it in the trashcan.

"You're not my keeper Sam." Dean replied harshly and Sam looked away trying not to let the hurt register on his face. Dean sipped from his cup of coffee and Sam felt ridiculously stupid for feeling hurt not only that Dean had snapped at him when he clearly hadn't slept and that Dean hadn't got coffee or breakfast. Dean always got him something even though most of the time he didn't eat anything, he just drank the coffee.

_Sam, stop being an idiot you girl._

"I'm going to have a shower." Dean said flatly, walking into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him

Sam stared at the bathroom door before letting out a sigh and sitting on the end of the bed scrubbing a hand over his face. He just wanted things back to how they used to be.

* * *

Sam washed his hands and glanced at his reflection in the mirror, the circles under his eyes were getting bigger and darker. He looked like shit.

Sam had picked at his food leaving most of his meal for Dean to finish. His brother had been in high spirits despite his mood this morning, even managing to flirt shamelessly with the waitress.

Drying his hands, Sam walked out into the diner and spotted Dean at the counter. Dean was leaning over seemingly engaged in conversation with the waitress but as Sam moved closer the waitress' expression registered, her eyes were wide with fear and tears glistened. Dean was gripping her arm, hard, his knuckles white and his expression dark.

The woman looked terrified. Sam managed to catch the end of their conversation.

"Get the hell out." The woman said between gritted teeth but unable to keep the tremor of fear out of her voice. Dean smirked muttering something under his breath before letting go of the woman's arm and walking straight past Sam and out of the diner, the bell tinkling as he went.

Sam glanced back at the waitress who was rubbing her arm, tears rolling down her cheeks as the other waitresses gathered around her and he then looked back, Dean was sitting in the Impala staring pointedly at Sam.

_What the hell was going on?_

_

* * *

_

Sam scrubbed a hand over his face as he squinted at the laptop screen, a headache building behind his eyes. He couldn't find any distinctive leads on the case they were working, there'd been electrical storms and spates of murders. Everything was pointing to a demon.

It was one am and Dean was out again, mumbling about going to a bar not a word about where he was going or when he'd be back. Dean hadn't spoken to him normally since they'd argued outside the diner. Dean hadn't taken kindly to Sam asking what had happened between him and the waitress.

_ "Dean what was that?"_ _Sam asked sliding into the passenger seat and staring across at his brother who avoided Sam's gaze, staring pointedly out of the windscreen. _

_ "Nothing." Dean replied simply, gunning the engine._

_ "Dean, that didn't look like nothing to me. She was _crying_ Dean and you were-"_

_"Shut up Sam." Dean warned, voice low as he pulled the Impala out of the parking lot and on to the highway._

_ "Dean what is up with you, I mean you-" Sam started but he was cut off as Dean slammed a fist down on the steering wheel._

_ "I said shut up Sam. I'm not in the mood, let's just get this hunt over with and get out of dodge." Dean growled before turning up the radio, ending the conversation._

_Sam looked out the window and swallowed. He didn't know if something was wrong or if Dean was still pissed off at him, or maybe they'd drifted too far…_

Sam leant back in his chair, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh. He didn't know if he could handle this much longer. He hadn't felt this alone since Dean had died. Dean hadn't really spoken all day other than to shoot Sam down; he'd left Sam to do the research and had lay on the bed watching TV all day whilst Sam drew dead ends.

He wasn't sure how much more time he could spend cramped in this motel room but he certainly knew that Dean didn't want to be around him.

_ "I wouldn't mind getting out of here, stretching my legs." Sam said as Dean grabbed his jacket. Looking across at his brother, Dean snorted and put his hands in his pockets. _

_ "I don't really think it'll be your scene, plus I don't need you whining at me all night. We're running low on cash, there's a poker game on and I don't want your gangly ass looming over my shoulder the whole night." Dean replied irreverently. _

_Sam just frowned in response his temper, that was always so close to the surface these days, bubbling._

_ "Dean-" He started, getting to his feet but Dean just opened the door, turning back to Sam and looking at him coldly._

_ "If you don't like it, why don't you just call up your little demonic girlfriend?"_

_ "Dean you know I…"_

_"Do I? How can I believe anything you say Sam? Look, I don't have time for you right now…go be a freak, go and laugh at Dean and how weak he is. I'm going out. I don't care what you do anymore." Dean said flatly, his eyes cold and dead before turning and walking out the door, slamming it behind him and leaving Sam alone, Dean's words ringing in his ears._

Sam woke up at 6 am, drooling over the laptop keys with sunlight streaming through the windows and Dean's bed empty, a pattern that was becoming all too familiar.

He wiped his mouth and sat up letting out a broken sigh. He just didn't know what to do anymore, things with Dean had never been this bad. He knew this couldn't feel worse than Dean being hell and Sam unable to do anything but the fact that Dean was tangible, was alive but wanted to be anywhere else other than near Sam made his heart ache.

Standing up and stretching, he let out a yawn and turned the TV on flicking onto the local news. The television droned in the background as he wandered into the bathroom turning on the shower.

Above the roaring of the old pipes and the hiss of the shower Sam heard something that made his mouth go dry.

_And late last night, five men were shot dead in _Jack's_ a local bar. It's believed that the shootings were a result of an argument at a high stakes poker game taking place in the bar. Witnesses at the scene didn't manage to get a distinctive look at the shooter but general descriptions outline that the shooter is male, roughly 6ft tall with dark hair. Names of the victims have not yet been released to legal reasons. More on this story later…_

Sam stared at the set numbly…no, no, no, no. It had to be a different bar…This was just a huge, ridiculous coincidence. Sam pulled out his phone, fingers shaking as he dialled Dean's number but before he could press call the motel room door opened and Dean wandered in, bags under his eyes, looking pale but definitely in one piece.

Sam just stared at him as Dean looked at him oddly.

"What?" Dean asked, voice gravely as Sam continued to stare, seeming to have temporarily lost the ability to speak.

Dean shrugged off his jacket and shoes, yawning before slapping something down on the table with a grin.

A wad of cash.

* * *

**A/N** Sorry if this is rushed and a tad boring but it will pick up in the next chapter which should be up in the next two days. Let me know what you think ;)


	2. Chapter 2

**_A/N _**Hey, sorry for the update being slightly late but this week has been pretty hectic! Thanks for the lovely reviews and I hope you like this chapter, the next one is where everything will kick off so enjoy and tell me what you think!_

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_

_I am fire, where's my form?  
Whisper crimson I intrude  
There's light beneath your eyes  
New overtones in view  
Endless form, endless time_

_**4**__**th**__** Dimensional Transition- MGMT**_

* * *

Sam's eyes flicked from the wad of cash back up to his brother. There had to be at least a thousand dollars on the table. His mouth went dry as news report rang in his head. Dean pulled up a chair and began to count out the money as Sam continued to stand there simply staring at his brother.

"Man that game was a piece of cake, amateurs the lot of them." Dean said with a grin as he finished counting the money and stuffed the notes into his wallet. As Dean got to his feet Sam finally seemed to find his voice again.

"What…uh, what bar did you go to last night Dean?" Sam asked, licking his lips and flicking his gaze over to his brother who was digging around in his bag for something.

"Uhhh Lloyd's, why?" Dean asked, still rooting around in his bag.

Sam felt relief wash over him and he let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding and sat down on the corner of the bed.

"No reason." He said softly.

Sam felt guilty for even connecting the two but, the way Dean was acting he…he didn't understand what was going on with his brother. His mind was just too tired, the world he knew had been turned upside down, angels wanted him dead, demons wanted to help him and Dean hated him. He didn't know what to think anymore.

* * *

Sam stepped out of the bathroom letting the steam from the shower seep out through the doorway, scrubbing his hair dry roughly with a towel he walked into the bedroom. He glanced over at Dean who was staring blankly at the TV looking tired.

He wished he knew what was going on with his brother, that he knew what Dean was thinking. Did Dean really hate him for what he'd said, for what he'd done? Maybe he was just trying to detach himself from his brother, to make things less painful for him when Sam was ultimately dusted by the angels.

He wished his brother had let him die in the mud at Cold Oak, killing his powers along with him. Sam wasn't worth dying for, he certainly wasn't worth four months in hell and if he'd have just been left to die in the first place Dean would have eventually moved on, he wouldn't be the broken man he was now.

He wondered whether Dean was thinking the same things.

He looked across at his brother and balked when he saw him swigging from a bottle of Jack Daniel's, taking large gulps of the amber liquid before setting it back on the nightstand and turning back to the TV. He wasn't even trying to hide the fact he was downing whiskey at 10 am.

"Uh Dean?" He asked slowly. Dean raised his head and glanced over at Sam.

"What? I thought you liked a drink Sammy? Or did you think that a few strawberry daiquiris too many means you have a problem?" Dean asked, eyes narrowing cruelly as he took another sip of Jack leaving Sam open mouthed and speechless. He blinked quickly, disguising the wetness in his eyes. _Huh, so that's how it felt to have something thrown back in your face._

"Dean what is _wrong_ with you?" Sam asked staring at his brother.

"What's wrong with _me? _I'm not the one running around exorcising demons with my mind and fucking them whilst I'm at it." Dean spat back harshly in reply leaving Sam reeling. His heart in his throat, he swallowed hard and ignored the way his eyes burned and his chest felt tight.

"Do you know what, I don't know what's wrong with you Dean but I can't talk to you when you're like this. I'm sorry if this is my fault, if you don't want me around just say so. You don't need to feel obligated to stay." He replied, hating the way his voice broke ever so slightly on the last word. Dean said nothing, silence falling heavily across the room as he took another sip from the bottle and turned back to the TV.

"I'm going for a walk." Sam muttered, his words falling on deaf ears as he grabbed his jacket and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

The cold morning air hit him like a slap in the face, the burning in his eyes seeming to grow as he walked away from the motel room hearing the sharp sound of a bottle shattering against the door.

Sam clenched his jaw and carried on walking, head down and moisture brimming in his eyes as he let out a long shaking breath. He didn't know where he was going, he didn't care. He just needed to get out, get out of his own head.

Before he knew it his feet had carried him to Jack's bar, police tape cornered off the area but the police and forensics and ambulances were long gone leaving the place silent, eerie and empty.

Sam looked around, sure that no-one was coming any time soon and ducked under the police tape, walking up to the bar. Walking around the back he picked the lock to the back door easily and slipped inside.

The blood had been cleared from the floor but a dark, rusty stain still remained ingrained into the wood and Sam swallowed. Walking over the table that still remained on its side, the chairs pushed back he surveyed the area. He studied the dark wood of the table when a flash of yellow caught his eye. He rubbed a finger through the powder already knowing what he'd found before he even smelt the sickly smell of eggs.

Sulphur.

So they demon they'd been hunting had finally come out of the woodwork. Sam straightened up walked back towards the exit. At least this was something, maybe if he threw himself into the case he could focus on something else other than Dean.

* * *

The next two days passed in silence, Dean said little more than necessary to Sam spending most of his time out and about whilst Sam chased up leads, tracked demonic omens and sat at the laptop researching.

He stared down at the demon in front of him who glared up at him, arms bound and bloody teeth bared. Sam began to recite the exorcism, the familiar Latin rolling from his tongue as the demon gritted his teeth and glared up at him defiantly despite the tremors that rocked the host's form, the shudders and groans as Sam continued with the exorcism as Dean stood to the side arms folded.

Even as Sam was reading the exorcism fluidly he could sense Dean's gaze weighing upon him heavily. He glanced over his shoulder, still spewing Latin and his gaze met Dean's hard one, scrutinising him closely. He let out a chuckle and Sam's words faltered slightly, the demon grinning and Dean smirking.

"Why bother with the old fashioned way Sammy? What happened to all the psychic mumbo jumbo?" Dean asked, cruelly spitting out the word Sammy like it was a curse word rather than the affectionate nickname it used to be.

Sam flinched and finally the exorcism faltered and broke off as he stared at his brother incredulously.

"What?" He asked, trying to keep the shock and hurt from his features as Dean merely smirked back at him.

_This wasn't his brother, it wasn't Dean. It couldn't be…_

"I wanna see it Sammy, I want to see how much _stronger_ and _better_ you are than me." Dean hissed, grin still plastered across his features.

Sam stood stock still, dimly aware of the demon chuckling in the chair but his gaze reserved solely for his brother's cold eyes. It was like Dean wasn't there anymore, and it was his fault, he'd done this.

He'd sent his brother to hell and he'd broken him when he came back.

"What's the matter Sammy, can't perform under pressure or are you just embarrassed about your freaky little mind tricks? Your demonic powers?" Dean asked still grinning inanely and Sam felt tears prick at his eyes but he blinked them back, staring defiantly back at his brother before continuing with the exorcism, his words echoing around the deserted warehouse as Dean simply smiled.

"…_Da locum Christo, in quo nihil invenisti de operibus tuis."_

Several things seemed to happen at once, the Demon let out a loud groan and a shudder but Sam's eyes never left Dean and as he spat out the exorcism, tongue rolling over the words with ease and fluidity he saw something that made his heart stop in his chest.

As the word 'Christo' left his mouth Dean flinched, turning around and disguising his actions with a cough.

Sam stared at him numbly, his mouth going dry as he stumbled over the words losing his focus. He watched Dean walk towards the door sipping from a flask he pulled from his pocket and Sam looked back towards the demon his mind working in overdrive, barely registering the black smoke pouring from the man's mouth and the screams.

He pressed two fingers to the man's neck, relieved when he found a pulse before straightening up and beginning to untie the man's arms and legs.

He'd make an anonymous phone call for an ambulance when he got out of here but for now he had to work this out.

Christo. Surely Dean couldn't be…they had the tattoos. Maybe Sam was just being stupid, it was all just a ridiculous coincidence and Sam was being a dick by even thinking that Dean could be…

But the way Dean had been acting recently was what made these doubts whisper through his head, creeping up and hissing in his ears.

If Dean was…possessed then how long had Dean been a passenger in his own body, how long had Sam been living with a demon, not even able to tell that it wasn't his brother he was talking to, not able to help his brother who had been trapped for days.

But what if Dean hadn't flinched, if it was all in Sam's head and he genuinely just coughed, how would it look if Sam accused him of being possessed?

He'd have to make sure first, before he said anything that would probably only worsen the situation…not that it could get much worse. He'd have to make sure before Dean went on his usual jaunt to the bar.

_The poker game._

No. That didn't mean…he said he was at a different bar, it was just a coincidence.

_Demons Lie._

Sam shook his head and swallowed hard as he walked out of the warehouse and found Dean sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala looking tired and worn.

Sam didn't question the change in seating arrangement as he got in, spotting the flask still clutched in Dean's hand. Sam shut the door and they sat there in silence staring out of the windscreen. Finally Sam licked his lips and turned to look at his brother.

"You want to tell me what that was?" Sam asked, deciding to play it safe and test out the waters before he started throwing Christo around. He didn't want to unnecessarily make things worse.

"Sam I…I don't know I'm just…I'm tired. I'm tired of this." Dean said, sounding more like Dean than he had in weeks, the genuine fatigue in his voice was palpable. Sam swallowed doubts beginning to rise.

"I just…I can't deal with all of this, I don't know what's happening to you, to me and…" Dean trailed off, looking out the passenger window and turning his head away from Sam.

Sam watched his brother silently and felt guilt begin to rise in his gut, hot and thick. Dean was finally opening up, admitting that he was struggling. His change in personality had clearly been due to the siren incident and everything had just been piling up on the brothers non-stop. Dean was struggling and Sam was accusing him of being a demon?

"Dean, I know things haven't exactly been great at the moment but…I hate this, I hate that we're not the same people we were." Sam began. He didn't have the words to explain what this was doing to him, he didn't have the words to apologise to explain why he was doing what he was doing, why he couldn't be the Sam that he was.

"Let's just go back to the hotel, I'm beat." Dean said, still not meeting Sam's eyes. Sam nodded and started the engine, thinking that maybe there was a possibility they could work things out…maybe.

* * *

Sam absently flicked through the local newspaper, listening to the hiss of the shower and the droning of the TV. Dean hadn't really said a lot more in the car and when they'd got in he'd headed straight for the shower. It wasn't much but those few words meant that Dean was still in there, the Dean he knew.

But something was still niggling at him, that tiny element of doubt that was chipping away at Sam's newfound hope for his brother.

Christo.

He knew what he'd seen and no amount of roadside confessions or apologies could erase that from Sam's mind. Dean had flinched. Sam knew had flinched, but could that really mean…

Sam didn't know what to think anymore. His hunting instincts had always been skewed when it came to his brother and what with the recent events, he just didn't know his brother, he didn't know what to do.

He glanced at the crack in the bathroom door, they'd never locked bathroom doors because of the dangers a locked door posed if something went wrong, their Dad had drilled that into them from an early age. Unfortunately, being a motel on the crappier side of crappy, the door didn't stick and always managed to pop open.

He saw Dean shuffling around the bathroom, towel around waist and was about to glance away when he spotted something.

Dean's chest.

He didn't know if it had been a trick of the light or Sam's imagination but he could have sworn that Dean's tattoo wasn't right…

Dean came into view again as he rummaged through his sponge bag and then Sam saw it clear as day.

Dean's tattoo was completely scabbed over, red raw around the edges.

It looked like a burn.

Dean's tattoo had been burnt off.

Shit.


End file.
